Thursday, March 17, 2016

Incoherent

There is a difference between a safe place and a prison, but you can't always quite tell.I
fail every step of the way, in this path made of cracked glass . Cracked from the weight of your choices. I count my steps, try to slow
down or speed up. It's always wrong. I end up breaking the glass. And
take the blame. The blame for the glass that many others tried to crush before me.

I am alone in this space. I look through the broken glass. I
could grow flowers in these hollow spaces.

But your glass path keeps
trying to cut me in half. And I keep breaking it.